There was no bill to keep for a souvenier, sadly. I've kept horseshoe crab shells and lobster claws in the past. They stink after a time, but they make nice temporary mantle decorations if you have no pets. I have no mantle anyways, so taxidermy will have to wait for the future; will have to wait for fishing hooks, shotgun shells, and restaurant menus.

The next day I went for a walk. I cleverly took the day after my birthday off work for hangover purposes, but I never had the urge to drink on Monday night. I think it was the apricot duck jelly. All I wanted was baseball and old techno songs. I got them.

So I began my jaunt by heading west down Cherry Avenue. Flowers, trees, cracked pavement, crossing guards, and bent signposts punctuated the quiet afternoon miles.

I'm back. It feels great to walk. It's my favorite thing to do in the warm seasons. A sense of inclusion prevails over my usual disconnected apathy. I feel like I belong to the human ecosystem, a cog in an organic machine. My body hums with an audible pulse. My skin breathes the sunshine and the air reaches deeper than my lungs, refreshing every pickled organ. My muscles are left limpid and smiling.

I'd never done this particular tour before. Intricate signage welcomed me into Franklin Park, and then again in Schiller Park, but none for my resident River Grove. Sidewalks started and stopped, some smooth, some broken and sunken.

I went through a few quiet industrial parks. I saw lots of Polish flags on parked cars, but fortunately the frequency of their appearance has subsided with each passing day. They're fading from prominence just like the sagging flesh from the pope's brittle bones.

Many signs read "Help Wanted NONE." Neither did I.

I found a lot where all the retired milk trucks go for rebirth into their second lives. They reincarnate as ice cream trucks. The song singers haven't been installed yet, apparently. I wanted one. If I ever have children I'd use it bring them inside for dessert. Pavlov with love and sugar.

I got home. I found my appetite for beer. I watched baseball. Life got perfect again.

well my old friend the time has come for us to once agin take up the corrispondence we once held so dear. i have held my pen for far to long!

from reading your journal i have noticed that you narrative speech has become refined to the point of poignant thought. how i love to walk uopn the path of words and see to where they leed me.

and as for the spalding, i would not worry untl they bring out g-13. for we have a long way to go but we cant stop here, this is bat country!

in all seriousness though my friend as i am living with my girl now she sees fit to erase emails and i have lost yours, ergo the post on your blog. i hope to hear from you soon but understand time is like a fat horny chick there always on you and when there not you would like to take the time to breath.